The Good Stuff
by LiquidVamp
Summary: [Hermione/Ron] When you need to be reminded what the good stuff is after those darker moments. No copyright infringement intended against JK Rowling or Kenny Chesney.


**The Good Stuff**

 _ **A/N:**_ _My muse, Maggie, is simple girl. All she likes are plot bunnies and reviews. So be kind to Maggie and feed her review cookies please._ __

 _ **Thanks to Lbandoly for all your hard work betaing this piece. It was highly appreciated.**_

 _No copyright infringement intended. All characters are the property of JKR, Scholastic, and any number of other companies with more money than I've ever dreamed of seeing. I didn't make any money off of this, so please don't sue._

 **Lyrics and story idea from "The Good Stuff" by Kenny Chesney**

They had only been married two weeks. Two weeks was all it had taken before tempers flared and voices were raised in anger. He had thought they would make it longer than that. Not that they ever had gone longer than a couple weeks without arguing before but marriage was suppose to calm the passion in a person. Everyone said so didn't they? Certainly that meant she wouldn't want to argue with him so much. He had been wrong. Merlin he loved Hermione, but the woman was as stubborn as Severus Snape had been cruel. Somehow he had thought that she would get less stubborn as she got older. Now he couldn't help but think he had been utterly wrong about that. She seemed more stubborn now than ever. More stubborn, more demanding, more bleeding irritating than she had ever been in all the years he had known her and that was saying quite a lot in his opinion on the matter.

He stormed out of the tiny flat they shared above the bookshop in Diagon Alley and walked until he made his way through The Leaky Caldron out into muggle London. There was a tiny hole in the wall pub not too many blocks away from the entrance to wizarding London that one of his fellow Aurors had taken them to after work one night. It would be the perfect place to just escape for awhile. She wouldn't be able to find him as easily as she might in Diagon Ally which made it all that much better. The last thing he wanted was her irate self storming into the pub and making a scene just because they'd had a row.

The glow of the neon lights in the window told of the drinks to be found inside. They didn't offer his preferred drink but a pint of muggle ale wouldn't be too bad he thought as he pulled the heavy wooden door open. The room was poorly lit but smoke free which suited Ron just fine. He didn't think he ever would understand what muggles saw in tobacco. Even wizards only thought of it as nothing more than an overgrown weed save for what few properties it could bestow to a potion or two and he only knew of those because Professor Snape had flat out refused to allow them to brew any potion with it in it saying he knew them "all to be thieves willing to burn their lungs up with it." Ron certainly thought he was a prick then but as an adult and auror he could see the intelligence in not allowing children a chance to play with it. The muggle-born lot particularly might have been more inclined to actually try smoking the foul mess. Hell he wouldn't have put it past his younger self just to spite his professor. Who was he kidding, the excitement of the forbidden was reason enough for any adventurous chap to give it a try given the opportunity.

He went in and took a seat at the end of the bar. The barkeep was on the other end of the bar, leaning on his hand looking half asleep. The older man looked up, nodded, then straightened himself and came up to him. "What can I get you, son?"

"A pint, whatever on the tap is fine." Ron replied. The man nodded and turned to fill the order, bringing back a brimming glass of dark, frothy Guinness. Ron took a long drink and sat it down in front of him, staring into the glass as if it held the secrets to life and death.

The barkeep wiped the high polished bar down with a clean white towel from the far end back toward Ron before stopping to look at the young red-headed man and the still mostly filled pint in front of him. "Not what you were looking for I take it?"

Ron shook his head. "I guess not," he said as he pushed the glass further away.

"If you don't mind an old man butting in where he likely doesn't belong, you look like someone kicked your dog and then stole it, boy."

Ron gave a weak grin. "If I had a dog maybe."

The old man nodded, he knew right from the start this young man's troubles. He'd seen it hundreds of times before and experienced it himself. "Then there's trouble with the young lass who has the matching ring to that one on your finger?"

"Trouble is putting it mildly. We've been married two weeks and managed to have the row to end all rows tonight."

The old man bit back a smile. "Oh I highly doubt it was dramatic as all that. I'm sure she'll cool down by the time you've made your way home. More sick with worry about you having left mid-stew than mad by that point I'll imagine."

Ron grunted, twisting the warm beer glass in his hands. "I highly doubt that, that woman can hold a grudge. I don't even rightly know what I did to upset her. We came home from work, we were about to eat dinner, and the next thing I know… well the roof is still intact."

The keep, tossed his towel on the back bar and pulled up a stool he kept behind the bar for the slower hours. "Oh that's how it goes sometimes. You can't let it get you though. You have to keep your mind on the good stuff my young friend. The things like _the first long kiss on a second date. Momma's all worried when you get home late and droppin' the ring in the spaghetti plate, 'cause your hands are shakin' so much. An' it's the way that she looks with the rice in her hair n' eatin' burnt suppers, the whole first year, an' askin' for seconds to keep her from tearin' up._ Oh you could sit here and dwell on what you've rowed over and how it started but why when surely you've got your own life filled with good things that are far more pleasant to ponder."

Ron sat and watched as the man seemed to be lost in thought for a few moments. It didn't take much to understand the man's words. The good things in life were the things that aren't perfect. He and Hermione had not perfect down to an art. He loved his wife dearly but the woman couldn't cook for the life of her. The next year very well could be filled with burnt dinners and sure enough he would eat every one of them just so she would know that he loved how she tried even though she was coming behind the best cook he had ever tasted; his mother. He would never look down on her for the lack of skill nor would he turn away from a meal she put before him.

The barkeep pulled out a quart of milk and poured himself a glass. "May I have some of that instead," Ron said eyeing his barely touched Guinness. The man smiled back and reached for a second glass. The two men talked for well on an hour. The older man pointed to a faded photo hanging on the wall. His wife, he said, had taken not too long after they were married. Love could almost be felt in the air as he spoke about her. "I lost her four years ago. Worst thing I've ever felt in my life. Turned to the drink I sell but let me tell you, there is _one thing stronger than the whiskey…,_ " A smile returned to the man's face as he began once more, " _was the sight of her holdin' my baby girl. The way she adored that string of pearls, I gave her the day that our youngest boy, Earl, married his high school love. And it's a new t-shirt saying, "I'm a Grandpa!" Being right there as our time got small, and holding her hand when the good Lord called her up. Yeah, man, that's the good stuff."_

 _He said, "When you get home, she'll start to cry. When she says 'I'm sorry' say 'So am I' and look into those eyes so deep in love, And drink it up 'Cause that's the good stuff. That's the good stuff."_

Ron nodded his head understanding every word the man had shared with him. No matter how hard it was to argue there would be far too many special moments to outnumber the bad ones. Sure they would row. They had since they were eleven, being married wouldn't stop that, but they would still have each other when the dust settled.

Ron thanked the man and went to pay for his glass of milk and glass of barely touched stout.

"It's on me son. Did us both a bit of good I do believe. Learned a bit of a lesson tonight I would wager. Now head on back home son, you've got a young wife back home who I know is missing you even though she was upset a while ago. Don't forget what I told you now. Always remember what I've said and you'll be able to weather any storm," the older man said.


End file.
